


Meet the Starks

by MsCFH



Series: Corporate AU [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsCFH/pseuds/MsCFH
Summary: Margaery's first encounters with members of the Stark family.Not always without complications.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Series: Corporate AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1348375
Comments: 24
Kudos: 136





	1. Robb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a jump back on the timeline with this story. This first chapter works as a continuation for the third chapter of "Get Together". For those of you who don't remember: The third failed attempt of the girls to go on a first date, at the end of which Sansa was sent into a crisis meeting without her underwear.

“See that’s where I just can’t agree with you,” Margaery told him and shook her head enthusiastically. “Tradition all good and well, but at the point where locations become nothing but a money drainage you need to call time of death and move on.” 

Across from her Robb Stark huffed, leaning back in his chair one hand braced on the table in front of him. “You couldn’t be more wrong. It is money well invested. Better so than in the most modern and extravagant newbuild.”

“That is wishful thinking and you know it,” Margaery disagreed firmly. “Newbuilds will always run more efficient, have not only lower costs in maintenance and staff, but also attract new guests.”

“While you lose regulars,” he shot a look to his sister who was sitting across from him, to Margaery’s left. “Sansa, help me out here.”

Margaery turned to Sansa and met eyes that barely refrained from rolling. Sansa sat there and kept pushing rice from one end of her plate to the other like it was the least relaxing zen-garden of all time. She did not even try to appear interested or polite anymore; frustration was branded into her features. The perfect opposite of her elder, almost cheerful brother who seemed rejoiced by the discussion. 

“White Harbour is our most popular locations with our steady clients,” she confirmed still, her tone beyond disinterested. 

Margaery’s eyes lingered on Sansa for a moment.

This was not the evening they had planned. Not the first date they aimed to have. Their third unsuccessful attempt; but who was counting. 

The crisis meeting which had put a stop to their plans had gone until past nine, too late for their original evening plans. Robb had witnessed them discussing their fallen through dinner and had, with the very best intentions, insisted on having take-out ordered to the office. 

In all the ways this evening had gone wrong already being more or less forced into a shared dinner with Sansa’s brother was not the worst in Margaery’s eyes, but Sansa did not share that sentiment. 

For sure not what they had planned for the night, but, trying to see the upside, Margaery appreciated the chance to get to know Robb Stark. He turned out as charming, funny, and just with the different outlook on life so that it poked Margaery’s competitive spirit. Somewhere along eating Robb and Margaery had ended up in this discussion and while at first Sansa had offered some input, now an hour after finishing their food, her patience was wearing thin. 

Margaery placed a hand on top of Sansa’s in an apologetic gesture. She would find a way to make it up to her later, but she simply did not have it in herself to leave an argument unfinished; especially if she knew that she was right. 

“I still disagree,” Margaery continued, let go of Sansa’s hand and brought her attention back to Robb. “Regulars come to your hotels because they love the brand, the service, the standards. The number of those who come only for one specific hotel is neglectable.” 

“That’s the problematic line of thinking with a company becoming too big too fast,” Robb returned still way too sure of himself for Margaery’s taste. “No guest should be considered as neglectable.”

He had barely finished speaking when Margaery’s phone sprung to life, vibrating with the notification of a text message … from Sansa. 

**Sansa Stark, 22:46**   
_ I want you.  _

She didn’t need to face Sansa to know that she was watching her. It appeared she’d discovered a way for herself to get some entertainment out of this at last. One of a particular kind. 

**Sansa Stark, 22:46  
** _ I want to make you cum. _

Margaery swallowed and turned her phone screen down onto the table, suddenly having a hard time to focus on what Robb had just said, and on what to respond.

“So you are trying to tell me the, what, thirty regulars a year are worth the enormous resources of twenty million—” Her phone buzzed, and she cleared her throat to keep focus “—that went to remodelling the location in White Harbour? Or the four hundred grand annually that go to maintenance?” Another two vibrating notifications in a row interrupted her. “I am not up-to-date on the numbers, but I cannot imagine you break even with that kind of spending. It sounds like a naïve calculation.”

“You did your homework,” he said with a hint of appreciation. “But, as a matter of fact, we do break even. And beyond that. You should never underestimate the charm of old architecture, paired with modern comfort. In fact--”

Her phone buzzed two more times, and he glanced at her, then at her interrupting phone with a smile. “Appears like you are in high demand tonight.”

She turned the phone around, briefly scanning over the messages. 

**Sansa Stark, 22:47  
** _ I can’t wait to be on top of you.  _

**Sansa Stark, 22:47  
** _ Feel your gorgeous body shivering beneath me while I kiss you.  _

**Sansa Stark, 22:47  
** _ While I kiss every inch of you.  _

**Sansa Stark, 22:49  
** _ … and leave marks all over you.  _

**Sansa Stark, 22:49  
** _ Small reminders of all the things you let me do to you. _

The rush of images appearing in her head made her momentarily dizzy. She wasn’t someone to blush easily, but could not be confident that she didn’t at this moment. Less out of embarrassment and more out of the heat that rose within her. 

It was not the first time she was on the receiving end of sexy messages from Sansa. But usually, they were on other ends of the continent, not right next to each other. And usually, she was in the privacy of her bedroom, not trying to convince an opposite in a business argument.

“Anything important?” Sansa questioned innocently from her left; just then Margaery hated her a little bit. 

“No. All good.” She shook her head firmly and refused to give Sansa as much as a glance; refused to let her know just how much she was getting to her. Her libido had not been in the way of winning an argument in her life ad she’d be damned if it did now. Instead, she offered Robb an apologetic smile. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“My point is this: All the reviews we received have been telling us again and again how much the old-time glamour it has is exactly why people choose it over newbuilt hotels in the same area.”

She’d caught herself just enough to push the thoughts that Sansa wanted to cloud her mind with aside. 

“From a business point of view it’s still not very efficient,” Margaery continued, noticing in dismay and anticipation how Sansa leaned back in her chair, phone in hand. She took her own phone into her hand, clasping it tightly to tune out the sound of the vibration, never taking her eyes off Robb. “You can’t have true growth on the market if all your wins are being pumped right back into keeping those old places going.”

By the time she’d finished her sentence, she’d felt the vibration of three incoming messages between her fingers. It was an unfortunate mix out of instinct and curiosity that had her glancing to the screen, despite knowing better. 

**Sansa Stark, 22:53  
** _ You’re wet for me already, aren’t you? _

**Sansa Stark, 22:53  
** _ I can’t wait to feel it.  _

**Sansa Stark, 22:53  
** _ You, all wet and hot rubbing against my thigh.  _

Margaery bit her lip and pressed her legs together; neither helped. Not in the least. Not with the pull in her lower stomach, nor the heat rushing through her body. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she was certain that she saw Sansa smile while she continued typing. She was getting under her skin, and she knew it; it was infuriating. Even worse, it turned her on beyond belief. Only Sansa had ever had that effect on her. She could annoy her, offend her even, and without fail, she always ended up wanting her more for it. 

“Growth is not everything,” Robb pointed out, plainly oblivious to what was going on between the two women opposite of him. “What about keeping up a standard? You need good and well-trained staff for that.”

“My point exactly.” Margaery managed a smile while pulling what was left of her concentration together to come up with the right argument in a somewhat eloquent form. “Newbuilds create jobs. Growth creates jobs.”

The phone vibrated between her fingers and the sensation alone was enough on its own to coil heat inside Margaery’s body.

**Sansa Stark, 22:55  
** _ I can’t wait to feel you like that.  _

**Sansa Stark, 22:55  
** _ To taste you. _

“No,  _ my _ point exactly,” Robb was not backing down an inch. He appeared to be just as infuriatingly stubborn as his sister when it came to questions of business. “You need experienced people. People who identify with your brand. No matter how good your employee training is, if you open branch after branch, you will end up with too many inexperienced people.”

“Long time staff is a valuable asset, but it can lead to a standstill. New people bring along innovation and change.” It was an argument, a company policy that she’d internalized, so she managed to say it, even while barely able to keep looking at Robb as she spoke; two more messages on her phone.

**Sansa Stark, 22:56  
** _ Or would you prefer my fingers? _

**Sansa Stark, 22:56  
** _ Three pounding into you at once. _

Margaery breathed, fighting to stay focused. 

Robb turned to his sister. “Any chance you still have those HR statistics regarding seniority of staff and revenues in the respective branches.”

Sansa chuckled softly, and she reached for Margaery’s hand, long fingers intertwining tightly with hers like a promise. “We are not going to look at any statistics tonight.”

“I am trying to make a point here,” Robb returned with a frown. 

At last, Margaery dared to glance at Sansa again, caught the soft smile, the spark in her eye, the slight hint of lingering frustration. Sansa had had enough of this thirty minutes ago; and, if her messages were any indication, she had still some extensive plans for today.

“It’s late, Robb,” Sansa reminded. “Let’s keep this kind of conversation in the business hours.”

Robb looked a bit disappointed for a flash but then nodded. “You’re right. Sorry. We have been all business, haven’t we?” He shot Margaery a charming smile. “It’s just rarely that you find someone who gives you such a run for your money in arguments.”

“Likewise,” Margaery returned with a smile of her own, feeling Sansa’s hand tightening its hold.

Margaery studied Sansa discreetly. This possessiveness was not new for Sansa, but … she could not be jealous, could she? Was she upset that Robb and Margaery got along?   


“I guess we should have spent our time getting to know one another instead,” Robb added.

“Next time,” Sansa declared decisively before he could make any attempts to bring the conversation to a personal level. She gave Margaery an expectant look, intense enough that for a short moment she had to press her legs together tightly. “Shall we?”

Margaery bit away a smile and could not help the soft blush coming to her cheeks at last. The feeling in her chest, the anticipation that she’d momentarily forgotten about earlier; anticipation of what would happen once it was just the two of them… It rushed through her veins in a line of pure adrenaline and made her knees feel shaky when she followed Sansa to stand up. 

Robb was standing now as well, and Margaery shot him a final smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Robb. I do hope we get a chance to finish this conversation some other time.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “And the pleasure was all mine.”

Sansa had a firm hold on her hand as she led her through the sparely lit corridors of the deserted headquarter. They walked next to each other in silence for the entire way. It kept on building the anticipation, the adrenaline that was already coursing through her body, added to Margaery’s excitement.

It was one of those occasions where Sansa was one of the most intriguing enigmas to her. She had no idea what would come next, and while in any other aspects of her life she couldn’t stand not knowing, not being in control, letting Sansa take the lead was something she had not once regretted so far. 

Under the bright neon lights outside the elevators, they came to a hold, and she caught the first glimpse of Sansa’s face. She met her eyes and Sansa smiled like she only smiled for her. 

Sansa looked at her for a long moment and then took a step closer stopping right in front of her. The heels she was wearing adding to their height difference so that Margaery had to arch her neck to meet her eyes while Sansa brushed her free hand over Margaery’s cheek. 

“I hope you are not upset I interrupted your banter with Robb.” Fingers ghosted over the line of Margaery’s jaw, as she spoke. 

A fresh wave of arousal rushed through Margaery with the almost innocent touch, and she had to swallow. It had been too long since Sansa had touched her - properly touched her. It was a manageable feeling any other day, but with her this close, with that fire in her eyes, she yearned for it so much it was making her head swim. 

“You  _ are _ jealous,” Margaery breathed; the part of her mind that was not enraptured by Sansa’s proximity and touch, fascinated by the discovery.

Sansa smiled. “Of Robb?” She shook her head. “No. You’d be too much for him.”

She said it so matter-of-factly like she’d considered it, weighed it back and forth a thousand times already.

“You know,” Margaery tilted her head to the side with Sansa’s touch that skimmed along the side of her neck, her eyes fluttering shut. “Normal people just say when they want to leave.”

“Normal people don’t rip off other people’s underwear,” Sansa pointed out gently, a finger tracing Margaery’s shoulder and collarbone. “Don’t underestimate how much you pissed me off with that.”

A satisfied smile appeared on Margaery’s face, and her eyes opened, finding Sansa observing her closely, her chest rising in barely contained heavy breaths. “Who knew you’d be so resentful.” 

Sansa touch on her exposed skin vanished, and she raised their joined hands to her lips to place an ever so innocent kiss against Margaery’s knuckles, never breaking their eye contact. “You are about to find out just how much.”

“I can’t wait,” Margaery husked out as elevator doors slipped open in front of them. 

Sansa smiled; a sweet and dangerous smile all at once. “You  _ will _ wait. I’ll make sure of that.”


	2. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is somewhere on the timeline between "Get Together" and "Rainy Days".

Margaery’s hand skimmed along Sansa’s ribs; she smirked when she noticed her squirming. She withstood the urge to test just how ticklish she was, instead her touch wandered higher and traced a nipple that hardened with her touch. 

“If I ever wanted to be something else I don’t remember it,” she concluded her silent moment of contemplation. “Growing up I did my homework in my grandmother’s office. I sat in on meetings for fun by the age of ten and as a teenager I spent almost every summer helping out in our different locations. I’ve worked in the kitchens, in housekeeping, in the laundry. I did night shifts at front desks. No, it’s always been hotel business for me.”

Having a lazy Saturday was still a new concept to Margaery; usually her weekends were filled with errands, with social obligations, every once in a while also work leftover from the week. A couple of weeks ago spending an entire weekend lounging around in bed would have given her anxiety, now she was relatively certain she’d be able to spent an entire month doing nothing else.

Margaery was on her side, her head propped up on her arm, she had the sheets and an extra blanket pulled up to her chest, while next to her Sansa laid on her back, not minding the -for Margaery’s liking- too chilly air of the bedroom, she had not bothered with covering up; the sheet barely reached to her stomach, one long leg bent and uncovered as well. With the way her red hair contrasted her pale skin and the white sheets she looked a little like a classic painting, Margaery thought. She was stunningly beautiful. 

“I wanted to have my own pastry shop when I was little,” Sansa shared her own memory. “Mom and I would not miss an episode of Great Westerosi Bake Off and we tried the recipes we really liked. The family business… I don’t know it snuck up on me I guess. I’d never expected that I would love the work as much as I do, but I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

“A pastry chef, huh?” Margaery’s smile widened and she rested her hand on top of Sansa’s stomach. “Yeah I could see that… white chef clothing, a flour stain on your cheek. I bet you--”

The bedroom door was flung open without any prior warning. They both jumped and looked up alarmed. In the door frame stood a woman with a small child on her hip; her entire appearance best described as dishevelled. The t-shirt and sweats she wore clashed in colour, her dark hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, on her feet over a pair of fluffy socks she’d put on flip flops.

While Sansa scrambled to cover herself up, the intruding woman breathed in relief and dropped the diaper bag she had over her left shoulder on the floor. “Good. You’re home.” She placed the little girl that could have not been older than a year on the floor letting her walk further into the room on unsteady legs. 

“This is not okay," Sansa’s tone was hard, but she did not seem nearly as upset as Margaery found appropriate. “You can’t just barge in here like this.”

“You gave me the key for emergencies didn’t you? Well guess what, this is one,” the other woman shot back and wrinkled her nose. “Gods, this place reeks of sex.” 

Sansa got into a sitting position and pressed the sheet to her chest, and Margaery followed suit, leaning back against the headboard, while the stranger decisively opened a window. 

“I thought that we clarified what counts as an emergency.”

“This is one,” the woman crossed her arms over her chest. The toddler pulled on her clothes and the strained expression on her face loosened a little and she lifted the child into her arms. “I need you to take her tonight.”

“Why?”

Dark eyes fitted to Margaery for a second then back to Sansa. “Because she’s your daughter too.”

Margaery’s eyes went to the child, who had a thumb in her mouth and rested her head against the woman’s shoulder, idly watching what was going on. Suddenly all she could see were blue expressive eyes of the girl, the bright red hair. “Can you repeat that?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Not funny, Arya.”

A small smirk appeared on the woman’s lips. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“She’s my sister,” came the short clarification from Sansa only a moment later and Margaery started to breathe again. 

Of course. Her sister. Who had a child. 

“Not funny at all,” Margaery agreed.

Not acknowledging Margaery’s comment Arya tapped her foot and raised her eyebrows. “So, can you watch her tonight?” 

Sansa drew a hand through unkempt hair and sighed. “I guess.” She gestured towards the door. “Hand me my robe?”

Arya followed the request and handed the silken dressing gown to her sister. Slipping her arms into it, Sansa halted for a moment. “So what happened?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, a hand reaching out and brushing over her daughter’s head. “I just need a couple of hours to myself. I will pick her up tomorrow.”

“Fight with Gendry?” Sansa guessed, closing the robe around her body and tying the belt. 

Arya took a breath and her features softened into something that looked exasperated; only then Margaery recognized the strain in her face for the for the first time. With a sigh she sunk onto the foot end of the bed. “It’s complicated.”

“Yes, it usually is with your guys.”

Margaery didn’t know a great deal about Sansa’s sister. All she had told her was that she had a child, worked as an engineer and lived with a guy in what Sansa called “cohabitation”. And that her sister was “a force of nature”, usually not shaken easily by anything.

So, whatever that guy did, he must have messed up majorly, for her to be this upset. 

Arya let herself fall back over the foot end of the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

“He’s just such an asshole,” she at last burst out, sounded like the words had been unsaid for way too long. She turned her head towards her sister. “You know … have you ever been, like, sometimes things are just going well? You’re happy, not fighting and … ugh, fuck! I should have known that he would find a way to ruin it.”

Sansa didn’t offer a words of consult, or asked questions; recognizing her sister didn’t expect an answer of her. She needed to vent, about whatever horrible thing this guy had done. 

Arya lifted her daughter off of herself and looked at her. “Daddy is a moron. Can you say moron?”

The first smile appeared on the little girl’s face and she babbled some incoherent syllables, followed by two very clear ones. “Dada!”

Arya rolled her eyes, but Margaery thought she saw a small smile tug on her lips, even as she huffed. “Sure, be on his side.”

The doorbell rang and had Arya’s head twisting to the other side. “Fuck.” She groaned when a second ring followed and sat up, turning to Sansa. “You have to tell him I’m not here.”

Sansa didn’t move, looked at her sister with drawn-up eyebrows. “First, tell me what happened.”

The doorbell rang three times in a row and Arya looked in the direction of the living room with anxious eyes. Unwillingly she offered an explanation at last. “The moron proposed, okay?”

With a frown Margaery spoke before she could think about it. “That’s it?”

Dark eyes darted to her dangerously quickly. “Yes, that’s it,” she bit out sounding frustrated. 

“Sorry,” Margaery apologized. “I didn’t-- it’s just this whole dramatic act… I thought he must have at least cheated.”

“Trust me,” Sansa chimed in, pushed the covers back and went to her feet. “He would know better than to come near her if he had. This is just Arya being irrational as usual.”

“Fine, I’m the erratic, crazy bitch with commitment issues. Just please send him away. Be on my side for once.”

Sansa raised her hands in defence. “I’m going, I’m going,” she said with a chuckle. 

Curiosity got the better of Margaery; she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Can I ask you something?”

Arya shrugged in response, and Margaery understood that was all the affirmation she would get. 

“If you don’t want to get married, why not just tell him?”

“I did. Twice.”

Margaery made a face. So much for third time being the charme. 

“Understandable that you would be upset.”

Arya frowned. “You’re not being sarcastic.” It evidently surprised her. 

“I can be, if you prefer that,” Margaery shot back with a shrug.

“Sasa!” The little girl gave her aunt a toothless baby smile when she returned to the room and stretched an arm out towards her.

“Come here you little munchkin.” Sansa took her niece into her arms, dropping her forehead against the baby’s playfully, letting small hands pat over her face. 

It was astonishing just how much the two looked alike. She could have easily passed as Sansa’s daughter. 

“What did you tell him?” Arya asked anxiously. 

“I told him you are here and that you don’t want to see him.” Sansa hesitated f before she continued and Margaery knew what she had done before she said it. “And then I told him to come up.”

Arya sprung to her feet. “God damn it, Sansa.”

“Hear him out.”

Quickly Arya shook her head. “I don’t want to see him right now. Why are you… why can’t you never be on my side, ever?”

“Maybe because I don’t get it,” Sansa admitted. She sat down on the edge of the bed, bouncing her niece on her knees. “He’s a great guy, an amazing father. He adores you ... and I know you love him.”

Arya remained silently looking at her, only her daughter babbled away in colourful not understandable sounds. 

“I don’t think that matters,” Margaery threw in and both Stark sisters turned to her. “If you get it, I mean. Whatever her reasons are, they are her reasons. It has to make sense to her, not to you.”

Sansa had her lips pursed. “Okay maybe I don’t have to understand it, but he deserves an explanation.”

“Does he?” Arya challenged with her head tilted to the side. “He asked her twice before, and I said ‘no’. I think you can’t blame someone for running out when being asked a third time. It’s not a romantic gesture, it’s him ignoring what I already told him.”

Sansa looked thoughtful. “You’re not upset because he asked again. You’re scared.”

Arya face darkened, she had a deep frown on her forehead, but her voice had a vulnerable quality. “What guy sticks around through three ‘no’?”

Sansa smiled softly. “The same one who sticks around after two?”

“I don’t know what to do.” Arya looked to the ground and shook her head, sitting down next to Sansa.

“You don’t want to lose him,” Sansa gathered.

“No.”

She arched her neck to get a better look at her sister's face. “But you don’t want to marry him either.”

“No.”

“Tell him that,” Margaery suggested. “Exactly that.”

Arya jumped a little with the knock from the apartment door, and looked at Sansa with big eyes, who gave her hand a squeeze along with an encouraging smile. “He’s more scared of you than you are of him.”

Standing up, Arya threw a quick look in the vanity mirror. She pulled the hair band from her ponytail and gave her hands a few brushes with her fingers, making her appearance, in all honesty, a bit worse than before. 

She didn’t bother with closing the door when she went her way into the living room and Sansa leaned back against the headboard stretching out her legs, her niece in her lap. 

“This oughta be good,” she predicted in a quiet tone.

“Why do I get the impression you are enjoying this?” Margaery asked watching the smile that spread over Sansa’s face. 

“This is not my first crisis management,” Sansa gave back and watched in anticipation how her sister’s hand flexed around the doorknob. “It always brings them closer in the end.”

Arya pulled the door open, her arms wrapped around herself while she waited for a dark-haired man to enter. He took her in, looked like he wanted to reach out, but instead stuffed his hands in his pockets, stopping a good metre away from her like he was afraid to get too close. 

“Hey,” he greeted. 

“Hi,” she returned quietly. 

Margaery leaned her head on Sansa’s shoulder in order to get a proper look on what was happening. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out. “I’m an idiot.”

“You are,” Arya confirmed. 

“I just thought… I just hoped that things had changed. I understood your reasons for not wanting to get married before, I just thought this time you … I thought we proved all your apprehensions wrong.”

“We did,” Arya said, emotion lacing her voice. 

“Then why--”

“I told you.” She took a hesitant step to him and placed a hand over his heart, looking up at him and he nodded silently. “I love you. And I don’t want to lose you. But if marriage is what you need to be happy then I am not the one for--”

He silenced her with a kiss before she had spoken the last word. “Now you are the moron.” He brushed messy dark hair back behind her ears. “I’d love to marry you, but only if it’s something that you want too. I don’t need it to be happy. I am happy.”

“I need you to be sure about that,” she requested, looking at him with big eyes. “It can’t be something that you hate me for in twenty years.”

He smiled a tiny smile. “So you still want to be with me in twenty years?”

It earned him a punch on his chest. “You’re an idiot.”

“I love you, Ary.” He got a hold of her hands. “I want to be with you. You won’t get rid of me with or without a marriage license.”

Arya looked at him like she still didn’t trust what he was saying, not fully, but a smile tugged on her lips still. 

“Just kiss him already!” 

Three heads shot to Sansa and Margaery slapped her arm. “They were having a moment.”

“So were we earlier, that didn’t stop her from barging in her,” Sansa pointed out with a shrug and her smile broadened when she looked back towards Arya and Gendry. 

Arya was on her toes, her arms slung around Gendry’s neck, sunken in a deep kiss. 

“Do you know her reason?” Margaery asked later when it was just the two of them again. 

Sansa who had ridded herself of her robe and snuggled back against Margaery under the covers the moment the door had been closed behind Arya, sent her a small smirk. “I thought the reasons didn’t matter.”

“They don’t,” Margaery said lightly, her fingertips tracing Sansa’s spine. “I’m just curious.”

“She never told me,” Sansa said with a shrug, folding an arm beneath her head. “For sure marriage and kids was never what Arya imagined for herself. Growing up she was never a girly girl. I think it goes against everything she sees herself as.” She rolled onto her back and looked up the ceiling thoughtfully, catching Margaery’s hand and entangling their fingers. “Maybe getting married is really just too traditional for her. The first time he proposed she’d just found out she was pregnant. They were not even together at that point. Not officially.”

Margaery snuggled into Sansa’s side, craving the feeling of her bare skin against her own. “I imagine that didn’t go down well.”

Sansa nodded, her eyes still directed to the ceiling. “It didn’t. He’s a lovely guy, but he just has no sense for timing.” She chuckled. “The second time was even worse. She was eight months along… I honestly don’t know what he was thinking. She was as tall as wide and grumpy all the time. And I mean  _ grumpy _ . We were all scared to come near her, even our mom.”

“How did she take it?”

“She lived in my guest room until the due date.” Sansa huffed. “That were  _ the  _ longest four weeks and three days of my life. They made up while she was in labour. He insisted on being in the delivery room with her and she broke three of his fingers.”

Margaery laughed lightly, tracing Sansa’s hip bone underneath the cover. “Seems only fair if you ask me.”

“In the end, I do think she has some kind of commitment issues. And I think our dad dying does play part in it. She’s afraid, though I can’t say of what exactly. Gendry adores the ground she walks on.”

“You sound a bit judgy there.”

“I’m her sister. I am allowed to be judgy.”

Folding her hands over Sansa’s shoulder, Margaery rested her chin on them and mused for a moment. “Some do consider marriage an outdated concept. She could just be ahead of her time.”

“Do you?” Sansa eyes darted to her curiously, her fingers dipping into messy curls.

“Maybe,” Margaery said after a moment of careful contemplation. “But more in the sense that I do not need it to consider my life fulfilled. I think any promise of forever not very realistic.” She smiled up at her. “Still, I am not opposed to the idea of wearing a wedding dress one day.”

“So traditional,” Sansa teased with a grin and leaned in to kiss her, her hand came around Margaery’s waist pulling her closer against herself . “I bet you’d look gorgeous in white.”

“What about you?”

“I think I do.” Her face turned serious and then she nodded. “No. I know. I would like to get married one day.”

Margaery smiled softly and played with her fingers, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. It was early in their relationship for this kind of talk. But maybe it was good to have it early on… before you were in too deep. Who was she kidding though? She already was. 

Sansa’s hand brushed over her cheek, her thumb tracing the eyebrow that tensed into a small frown. “What’s on your mind?”

Margaery did her best to relax her face, to ignore the knot that formed in her stomach. “What are your thoughts about family?”

Sansa tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean … having a family, of your own. Having kids.”

The caress didn’t stop, but Margaery thought she could see her hold her breath for the length of two heartbeats, and it made her nervous; made her not sure anymore if she wanted an answer. 

“You don’t have to… I mean I might be getting ahead of myself here.”

“I don’t think you are,” Sansa replied quietly. 

They looked at each other for a quiet heavy moment and Sansa leaned in to kiss again, she only pulled back slowly, her lips lingering, like to draw the moment out. Never before has a kiss made Margaery so anxious. It felt like a promise that nothing would change, when they both knew it could within seconds. 

“I don’t see kids as a part of my future,” Sansa explained in a firm voice then and kept on watching Margaery’s face closely. 

“You don’t want kids,” Margaery asked toneless, her mind needing a moment to process the information. 

“No,” Sansa declared more firmly. “I do get the wish to be a mother, and maybe part of me--” She shook her head. “It’s not something I want enough myself to truly consider it.”

“It’s not something to compromise on, I get it.”

“Exactly. You can compromise on nearly everything I think. Worse comes to worst, even marriage is reversible. But you can’t undo having kids.”

Margaery studied bright blue eyes that observed her closely, saw the tightness in her expression and it took her a moment to realize why that was; when her own anxiety had lifted itself like a cloud blown away by the wind. 

“I feel the same,” she told Sansa. “I don’t want to be a mother.”

Almost shyly they smiled at each other, and a sense of awkwardness lingered in the air. Why did it feel inappropriate to smile? They wanted the same thing, that was a good thing. A very good thing. 

“Can I ask your reasons?”

Despite herself, despite the hope that Sansa could understand her, Margaery hesitated for a second. 

“I like my life as it is. I love my job, I love succeeding in my work. And I know that having it all is not impossible anymore, but… it would make life a great deal harder and complicated. That’s not a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

“We all only have so much to give,” Sansa nodded in understanding. 

“Exactly. It might be selfish--”

“So what if it is?” Sansa interrupted her. “So is making the decision to have kids. Just in a different sense. People have kids to give their life a sense of purpose, to have someone loving them unconditionally, maybe to make sure there is a legacy to leave behind, maybe in the feign hope to make the world a better place by raising them in the right way. It’s personal fulfilment, whether they are able to be good parents or not.”

Margaery looked intently at Sansa as she spoke with so much fire, drew a hand through soft hair and smiled up at her. 

_ She’s it.  _

The thought hit her like a train; in the very best way. 

She was everything Margaery had ever wanted. Not because she shared the same sentiments about what they wanted out of life, though that didn’t hurt; but that feeling of having found her match, her equal, someone who was passionate about her work, about her beliefs… 

The words were on the tip of her tongue, three words that had been building in her chest ever since their first night together. Sansa kissed her gently before she could find the courage to say them out loud. 

Maybe, she thought as she slung her arms around her neck, it was enough relationship development for one day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you guys, but with everything that is going on, I need a little fictional escapism. Writing calmed my anxiety a little and I hope it will do the same for you.  
> Hope all of you are well and staying safe wherever you are!


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